~ in this moment

Category Archives: health

We are finally starting to get a chill in the air in Brisbane (happy dance, happy dance!), so the slow cooker came out of the pantry last week. First cab off the rank was a bone broth.1.5kg of beef bones at the organic butchers cost around $12. (In case you’re a local, TMP – formally The Meat-Ting Place – in the shopping centre on Flockton Street in McDowall has certified organic meat and terrific service).

Roast the bones in the oven for an hour – about 200-220 degrees C. Take straight out of the oven and into the slow cooker along with any vege offcuts you’ve kept aside. I used one brown onion, a couple of carrots, about 3 stalks of celery, 2-3 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar and 3 bay leaves. Some people add ginger and garlic – but I leave that for when I use the broth instead.

Cover the entire lot with filtered water and put the slow cooker on low. To get a gelatinous broth, let it simmer for 24-30 hours. It took about 6 hours to even start to simmer and the smell was really quite light – not like how a pea and ham soup stinks out the place!

I lost very little liquid through the simmer – and also didn’t have much fat scum to scoop off the top. I suppose it depends on the bones. I took out the large bones and veges and allowed it to cool a little in the cooker bowl before pouring out through a strainer to remove the solids.

At this stage, I wanted to get it cooled down and into the fridge as quickly as possible – it’s a meat product after all. So I filled the sink with ice and put the large bowl of strained liquid on top to get the temp down and get it into the fridge. Overnight the fat floats to the surface and solidifies. It’s then really easy to cut the fat around the edges of the bowl and lift out – leaving the wobbly broth. ** Don’t throw out the fat! Put it in a spare jar and keep it in the fridge to use for bbq-ing meat and veges.

I kept some broth in the fridge for dinners over the next few days, but froze the rest for future use. I don’t really have any ‘specialist’ equipment – so I used silicon cupcake patties and a small banana loaf tray. These both worked really well. I bagged up the frozen broth to stop freezer burn and they are all ready to go!

I will use it as a stock for soup or any liquid absorbing grain – cous cous, rice or quinoa etc. It’s awesome for adding to spag bol or making sauces and gravies for meat dishes, but it’s terrifically tasty and satisfying as a meal on its own. That’s how I like it – heat it up and add an egg or spinach or any vege really. Voila!

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This article explains the first half of my holiday. A noisy brain, internal rules about what I “should do” instead of what I needed to do. I particularly like the point on rest not just being physical – and slthough difficult, stopping the mental, spiritual and emotional angst/business is necessary.

I intend to be more mindful of my negative inner talk and reverse it for the second half of my time away.

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Baked Relief is a call to arms that was born from the Brisbane floods. It started as a rallying cry from Digella’s blog across twitter and Facebook for those who still had power connected to put it to good use and bake some food for those out helping sandbagging or cleaning flood effected properties. Those that could drive, collected and delivered food to SES crews whenever and wherever they could.

Baked Relief continues to coordinate the spread of a little thoughtful kindness and support to those not expecting anything from anyone.

If you’re in Brisbane, and you are in a position to participate – putting together a box of essentials for a farming family out west to have an old fashioned smoko (that’s aussie slang for a morning or arvo tea break), then I’d encourage you to follow the link to see the particulars.

In my experience, good people don’t ask for help- they just get on with it. Farmers are doing it tough with the drought and a box of comfort from a city slicker shows we are thinking of them.

2014 was a bit of a struggle. It sucked a little personally and it sucked a lot for people I know. I think it would be good to have a visual reminder of what holds my family and friends together when the tough times come around.

A friend of mine has been doing this forever – and I’ve finally got around to stealing it. Here’s her way to celebrate your wins and hold on to what’s truly important.

Every good time – anything you celebrate – grab a momento and write the date/occasion, where it happened and if you have room – who was there. It doesn’t really matter what it is – napkin, card of some sort, Polaroid photo or in my case starting Christmas, a cork from a champagne bottle. You can mix and match – or drink champers all year 🙂 Place each momento into a glass jar/bowl/vase or even novelty oversized martini glass so you can SEE IT – that’s the key.

When times are tough, you’re missing loved ones or your worries take over, you can pick out a good time and smile.

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It seems there’s a small window of opportunity to wind down to sleep…and I keep missing it. I’m tired. I’m not wired and my mind isn’t racing. I’ve done my journal today so all possible angst is out on the page. I’m sure I can fall asleep once my head hits the pillow and yet, I find myself poodling around the house doing I-don’t-recall-what and it’s past 2am. A third wind takes me, if you will. Why do I keep stuffing up my body clock?! Mondays hurt all the more for it. I haven’t been dreaming of late, so it can’t be fear of that. Weird. Anyway- G’Night.

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It’s been a while since I wrote anything, either on here or in my journal. Which is a bit nuts. My journal let’s me mull things over and get it all out of my head until it makes some sense, so to stop that goes to show how muddled I’m feeling. I’ve had an early stage skin cancer removed from my lower leg and it’s not healing at all well. So now I’m house bound and going nuts with doubts and worries. I’m concerned about using up all my sick leave (whilst acknowledging how lucky I am to have a job that lets me ‘earn’ sick leave entitlements). I worry that I’ll need it for something really serious in the unforeseeable future. I am mentally bashing myself up for not ‘doing more’ while I have my leg in the air. Not writing. Not reading. Not improving. Not earning. Not cleaning. Not learning. Not working. Not. Not. Not. I actually sat here today kicking myself along with rewards – if I sit still for two hours, I can surely water the plants. While I sit for a few more hours, I can compare home and content insurance to see if I can make a saving somewhere. I got $50 off. So that’s a win, right? It’s a little bit scary how consumed by the negative and how foggy I’m getting. I thought I’d have more resilience than this. Doing nothing is not my forte. I have to have a plan. I have to have something to do. As the great man says…

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Lunches for the week are now sorted. Homemade hommus to have with sweet potato chips. I baked extra sweet potato to add into some Harissa cous cous and spinach. I baked some mini mushroom and feta tarts to have with salad and a few to go into the freezer for an easy late dinner after a long day at work.

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I find it tough to stay positive through the drudge of my real-life workday. Staying mindful of what I want that would be better for me gets a little lost in the knee-jerk required to fix the perpetual drama of the day. And none of which adds to me achieving my goal for a more inspired life.

So this morning, I began with deciding on one small step I can do today that keeps my mind out of the humdrum and reminds me of my bigger picture. I plan to do it at lunchtime so it’s scheduled and is something I’m now looking forward to. Usually any break I take out of the office involves crossing off a chore on the to do list.

What’s your one step on the road to what you really truly want? Big dreams come true one little piece at a time. Chip away at it.

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You know that little freckle on your lower inside calf? On the part of your leg visible when you sit cross-legged on the ground? The bit you hardly ever put sunscreen on because you wear long skirts and work in an office and are really only out in the sun when you’re walking to and from public transport on your weekday commute? Yeah, let’s talk about that one.

When you go to your yearly skin cancer clinic scan (and you DO GO TO A YEARLY SCAN, RIGHT?) and you strip down to your undies and get gawped over by a specialist – make sure they look at it if they don’t catch it themselves. My Doc caught it. And it came off that very same visit. A local anaesthetic needle and a few minutes razoring off a piece of me for biopsy and come back in a week for the results.

What you probably won’t expect is a phone call the very next afternoon rescheduling your follow up to a “surgery timeslot because it’s obviously cancer”. Faaaaarrrrk. Don’t do that, Receptionists. Don’t say that.

So you excuse yourself from your open plan desk and rush to an empty meeting room to ask for more info as you madly text your go-to friend who texts back saying find out more info. Then leave your workplace. Just leave. Talk to your doctor on the commute home and be assured if it was seriously bad cancer, he’d have you back in that day to cut it out.

Go to your surgery, driven by your go-to friend who knows to talk to keep your mind off things. Stay cool while you get needled, carved and stitched. Make small talk about the embroidery skills of the Doc you’re trusting. Limp out. Keep your leg up for a few days. Look after yourself and know that whatever the next results say, that if further action is required, KNOW that you’ll do it. Whatever it takes.

It’s better to know, ladies and gentlemen. It’s better to be checked, have some news and deal with it, than it is to have a nagging worry in the back of your mind and avoid it. Living with your head up your butt isn’t living.

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I just made these lovely little snack pieces. The original recipe was posted here by Not Quite Nigella.

Plump up 1/2 cup of sultanas in some hot water. I also rehydrated some cranberries. Mash up two ripe bananas in a bowl and add in 3/4 cup oats, 1/2 cup desiccated coconut, 3 tablespoons of cocoa powder, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract, 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon and about 3 teaspoons of agave syrup (for sweetness). Mix in the sultanas with this to get a wet mix. Roll into balls and roll these in more oats and coconut. Voila – healthy snacks for the working week.

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I scored a bag of homegrown mangos from my sis-in-law last week and when a few of them ripen at the same time, what do you do? Chop them up into bite size pieces and freeze them. Add in any other fruit you have around to make up smoothie shortcut bags you can throw into the blender at a moments notice. Make them about 1/2 to 1 cups worth and you have enough to add to a cup of liquid, add a shot of protein powder and some ice if you are sharing with another and blitz away. Easy.

You know that feeling of something missing in your life/an emptiness of real purpose that the day to day chore-fest doesn’t seem to answer? I’ve never heard it explained like this before and it makes sense.

Everyone is busy, and there never seems to be enough time in the day to do what you want to do, let alone need to do. Still most people I know spread themselves thinner to put some time and energy into “their Calcutta” – and some even spread themselves across a few causes. This is why.

Spread out on a tray and add almonds and some coconut on top. Into a low oven (80 degrees) for 2 hours. Turn off the oven and let the tray cool completely in the oven before putting in a container lined with baking paper.

It’s supposed to make up to 10 breakfasts but it lasts me longer. It’s delish with soy milk.

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How much does the inability to get to sleep suck? Heaps! It sucks heaps. It’s nearly 1:30 and I have to be up in 4 and a half hours to go to work. My mind isn’t whirring. No big to-do list being compiled as I lie here. Just me asking myself why I’m not sleeping? Stupid. Now I’m getting angry and my jaw is clenching. Teeth grinding and a headache will be the morning result. Sigh. Something is going to have to give and it will be something other than me. It’s gonna be a long week.

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1 – Go into the kitchen to make a coffee – nespresso machine needs more water
2 – Filter water tap is behind the trays drying from last nights cooking
3 – Go to put away trays – realise they don’t sit well in the cupboard
4 – get out old dish-rack saved for such an occasion
5 – go into garage and hacksaw the dish-rack into two pieces – take off jumper as get hot
6 – set up trays in half of dish-rack to sit better in the cupboard
7 – set up bread boards in other cupboard using other half of sawed dish-rack
8 – go back to garage to clean up
9 – go into bedroom to put jumper away – see dirt tracked over the rug
10 – got to kitchen to get hand roller to run over the rug to save getting out the vacuum
11 – realise didn’t feed the fish yet – Artie and Sith doing cartwheels when I walked past
12 – feed Artie and Sith
13 – put back hand roller in kitchen drawer
14 – fill up water tank for nespresso
15 – make coffee

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I can go months without reading novels. There are times when work is so much “input” that when I get home I can’t face concentrating on yet another thing. It hurts my head.

For the first time this year, I’ve felt like reading and I’ve gone back to one of my all time favourites – Patrick O’Brian’s brilliant series about the life of Captain Jack Aubrey and his particular friend Doctor Stephen Maturin. I love period fiction and this is one of the very best. There are twenty books in the series – with snippets taken from a few of them to make up the movie “Master and Commander” starring Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany as the lead characters. I still think they should do another one – do you hear me there, Russ?!
There’s something magic about delving into another world described in such a way that the times and the people become familiar, comfortable and safe. I’m with them every step of the way, I laugh at their jokes and fear for their lives.

I can’t imagine not being able to read. It seems like every new film released prompts another round of the old book vs movie conversation. And more and more, I’m finding acquaintances that have never read the books modern films are based on – or even heard of the original film a modern one is “remaking”. Considering the popularity of recent films like the Life of Pi, Les Miserables and The Great Gatsby, it’s a shock that some have never come across the written story first, and don’t seem prompted to read the book afterwards either. Movies show a story, sure, but to hear it fully you have to go back to the original storyteller and sit at their table.

Even if I only reread the books I’ve loved – I’d have enough to keep me going for years. It makes me sad there are kids out there that may never get the thrill of sitting quietly, for hours on end, alone and thoroughly absorbed in the tale of another time, place and people they’ll never meet otherwise.

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Is there anything worse than being awake when you want to be asleep – need to be asleep? Every tick of the clock means a second less time before I have to be up in the morning. It’s already the morning here – a quarter to 2 to be exact and all I can manage is the weary thought that with each passing minute staring at the ceiling, that’s a minute more demanding the day is going to be.

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What a shame it is to have a schedule on a Saturday. I have appointments in the morning. It’s now 1am and I’d rather keep reading but a deadline looms that will only allow a maximum of 6 hours sleep. Another chapter and struggle through tomorrow? Yes/No?

Yes. I choose another chapter.

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It’s interesting, isn’t it? Emergency medical services are directing members of the public with flu symptoms to go to a GP before presenting to them this winter. Ahh – no. I’ve I’m that crook, I’m going to the nearest hosptial. No matter how fluey I have been, no GP has ever done anything for me except for saying “keep doing what you’re doing and come back in 5 days if you still feel unwell”…and then charge me $70 for the advice.

What do GP’s think adults “soldier on” with for weeks before finally going to them?!!!? Most people I know self medicate with everything they can get – herbals concoctions, over the counter flu tablets, cough mixtures, lemon tea – you name it. Anything that helps us hold it all together. When we are finally run down enough to admit defeat and may be in need of a medical certificate to “prove” you’re sick and not off work surfing, the docs I’ve had do very little. In fact, it’s rare to even stick out your tongue and say ahh. These days, my ‘examinations’ are more short form Q and A with the obligatory print out of a generic brochure.

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My life is apparently in one of those “holding patterns” at the moment. It’s rare to hit a patch where every aspect of life is being delayed – work, home, health, hobbies, everything. But that’s what I’ve got. Yay, karma. Times like these frustrate the hell out of me. I want things done when I want them done. I’m happy to pay for them to be done when and how I want them. (It’s why I put up with a sucky workplace). But all these plans depend on other people getting around to it. The realisation that I can’t do this because …forms have gone missing; noone answers their phone; information isn’t forthcoming; systems are not configured so that they work correctly; the whole is not completed with the sum of the parts provided with the instructions; or my personal favourite – bickering childishness – he said, she said. Arghhhhhhhh!

Don’t get me wrong, I can procrastinate along with the best of them. I am slow and methodical in doing things. I don’t move quickly – needing to research each part of an entire project before beginning the first step. But when I’m ready to go, when the plans, small window of time, my money and a sliver of opportunity is there – aligned – and someone else yells “WHOA!” I could take their head off with a cricket bat. Truly.

There’s got to be a way to shift something. Get someone else moving. All I need is for one element to move in a forward direction and I’m sure, Pied Piper-like, the rest would follow to see where it’s going. It makes such a difference to my attitude and outlook to have something moving. I need a positive perspective to get me through my day, but it’s difficult to muster one when it seems that everything is stalled.

In the past I’ve driven myself into the ground trying to insert a plug of dynamite under immovable objects. It only ends up giving me migraine. So I am trialling taking a deep breath in and lowering my shoulders while I breathe out. It seems all I can do is keep chipping away at the things I can do myself. It doesn’t get anyone shifting any quicker, but it certainly lowers my blood pressure.

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I approach each day intending to DO something towards my goals. My day usually gets high jacked by work, reacting to work, thinking about the reaction at work, then getting home and collapsing. I then beat myself up for not taking even one small step towards where I want to be. And yes, I know I’m my own worst enemy. Believe me, I know.

Today’s plan is simple. I will work, then shop for ingredients to make my own Harissa, then when home, I will put together one of the two drawer sets for my craft room. Just one of them. That is all. I can do that – no matter what rubbish hits the fan in the workplace.

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I think too much. Some topics go round and round my head so much I don’t remember what started it.

I am the sort of person who likes to be prepared. I plan. I plan everything. I plan what might happen. I plan what won’t happen in a million years. It’s not all bad. Sometimes I crack myself up completely. I have been busted rolling around on the floor. And I’m ok with that. I don’t mind if you think I’m nuts.

I like daydreaming. I like my imagination. I don’t mind that it gets whatcha might call “fantastical” at times. But I don’t like to worry. This I do too much. It affects my sleep. It hurts my head. It makes me grind my teeth…which also hurts my head.

So, in the name of the institution of New Years resolutions, I begin my trial of the “great written dump”. Each night I’m going to fill a page of what happened that day, maybe what might happen tomorrow, shopping lists, a knock-knock joke – whatever is rattling around my stupid noggin. I’ll put it all down and lay it to rest. I’m hoping sleep will come easier to an empty head.

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I had a meltdown at work today. I could see it happening. I could certainly feel it happening. But my head wouldn’t stop it happening. I don’t think I made too big a goose of myself. Too bad if I did.

I went from being pissed off at what I perceive as indirect bullying, through feverishly researching the procedures for making a formal complaint and eventually ending up (5 hours & a few tears in the bathroom later) at giving up completely. The environment at work will never change and, for my own health, I will spend my time finding another job.

It takes me sooooo long to get to the point of not letting it affect me. I wish I could work out a quicker way to “rise above” and not take things so personally. Haven’t got there yet.

Is there a trick to it? Not caring? Walking away? Chucking a sickie?

For now, it is putting together some flat pack furniture, a dinner of vegemite on toast and a gastrolyte ice block, two more panadol and bed.

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I’ve been feeling under the weather for a while now. Just when I think I’ve got the dreaded lurgy licked, it’s back with a vengeance. Given the fab fruit coming into season in the Aussie summer now – this bug has no chance! Fresh juice to drink, use to do my soaked muesli, add to yoghurt and glasses of water to keep hydrated. I’ve got vitamin c coming out the wazoo at the moment.

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I dragged my cold’n’flu arse down to the bank this morning. Running nose, hacking cough, tissues up the sleeves (clean up the left, dirty up the right). Trackie-daks – grey with a Han Solo Correllian double stripe down the sides in white. An oversized fleece – blue with an inside collar of red. Undershirt was a mud army t-shirt – maroon of course. Black pumps, black socks. Hair up in the bogan butterfly. Truly, a vision of beauty. Bank did what I wanted reeeaaaaaallllly quickly. I’m now home, logging into said bank website – and what was promised has not been done. Am not sure if I’ll be going back down there…might call the branch and threaten it though 🙂

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So, work is a changing with a lot of decisions being made that both my workmates and I will feel the effects of down the track. There’s a bit of stress involved in having my work changed – there’s some fear that I have to trust the bosses are making informed choices based on the facts – not guesswork or ignorance. Feelings of disappointment comes from the fact that there’s not much praise around for doing my work. So when it changes I need to be very clear that it’s not because it was done badly or that I failed – although there’s an element of that bias being implied from some unsavoury personalities. For my part, I’m trying to not be precious about what I do. I know I work hard, I know I know my work and how it gets done best. I know there will be inefficiencies created in the change and I’ll have to work them out. Cleaning up after dumb moves is a recurring theme in my work life 😦 And the pessimist in me knows the changes will be made whether they are the best way to do things or not. I don’t have a say. The hardest thing is to keep in mind that the buck doesn’t stop with me. And I can only do my best with what I’m given.

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Quite a bit of synchronicity around at the moment. All of it is pointing to the need to start looking after myself. No-one else is going to do it for me, right? Reminders are coming through the lives of friends and family, workmates too. Slow down. Nothing, NOTHING, is more important than health. Not a half hour of flex time being saved, not getting the early bus, not “doing everything that needs doing”.

I think that’s the lesson for me. The only person who sets the rules that start with “I have to…” is me. I can let things go – but I should never let go me. My time to stop, rest, sleep, eat properly and exercise is not less important.

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I’ve been thinking about getting this tattoo for a while. I need something to help remind me to respect myself – my thoughts, my feelings, my wants and my needs. I find I let them (me) take second place quite often.

I think there are a lot of people like me out there. We have no say at work because we’re the ‘drones’. We go along with social plans and ideas because its not polite to make waves – and really is it a big deal? And of course we all get brought up to accommodate family – no question – because we love them. Fair enough.

1) I get scared. I’m terrified of making a wrong choice so I dither and am unsure.
2) I worry too much – thinking things through an infinite number of “if this, then that” scenarios.
3) I retreat from conflict. I don’t want to offend or upset anyone.
4) I compromise – or delay agreeing 🙂
5) I don’t act on my ideas because I fear judgement and derision.
6) I get depressed about feeling “pushed into” a position that ultimately my behaviors allow.

So, I want a visible and constant sign to let me know that my choices are ok and that my say counts. My decisions made for me might disappoint others, but that’s not my problem. I should stand my ground.

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Spent most of yesterday beating myself up for not understanding the “tone” and intent of a meeting – I botched it. Nothing worse than walking out feeling blindsided and underprepared. It’s that classic “spend the next 24 hours thinking of all the things I shoulda/coulda/woulda said instead of what I did say” moments. Shit.

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I like a fair fight. Nothing below the belt. No name calling. And leave our mothers out of it. But, if I gotta fight, I’ll fight.

Nothing pushes my buttons more than having my opinion dismissed as irrelevant. Every person knows when they are being put down. It is a deliberate and cowardly move and there is nothing innocent about it. (NB: if you do this and claim you didn’t mean to start the argument and it is the other person’s fault for misunderstanding you – you’re lying to yourself). It’s the worst kind of dirty fighting. We all know what’s going on.

That’s the bit that gets me. My reactions aren’t a sideshow amusement for you intellectual giants. They are real. And if you’re that friggin condescending that you have to belittle me into backing down so you don’t lose – then you already have.

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I get it, I get it. Bad sleep, teeth grinding, migraines starting, sinus blocked, bruises I don’t remember getting… and I’m still trying to battle through. I do get it. STOP. Time to stop. Say no to as much as I can. Pull back on the efforts and do the minimum to keep my time and energy for me. Sleep, read, sleep, sit. Sounds like heaven, don’t it?

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My usual trick around my birthday is to beat myself up a bit about where I am, what I’ve achieved and to generally make myself sick with a migraine because I’m not a good enough me. Fuck that. This year, I’m on strike. Imma gonna enjoy the flowers and have a drink. Cheers.

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Is there an age at which you stop fluctuating between happy and sad? Does the pendulum swing with less umph as you get older? The times I feel happiest (or at least quietly accept the moments of low) are when I don’t care about how I feel. Weird, huh.

At what point do you not doubt yourself? I always figured that would be when I was grown up, but the doubts are still there. The fleeting grasp I seem to have on a reliable resilience has me stuffed. I’m strong. I’m educated. I have moved countries. I have travelled alone. I have walked away from jobs that others called a “career”. I’m clear about what I will and won’t put up with, so where’s the fear coming from exactly?

At this point, I can at least note when it’s happening. I have this weird out of body conversation with self thing happening. I know I’m feeling like I want to walk away, but I stand there and stay in the moment a bit longer to see what happens…which is nothing. No tragedy. No drama. Nothing bad really – it’s all in my head. A weird work in progress. I am my own wacky experiment, I’m just not sure if I’m Jeckyll or Hyde.

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Well, not such a big brain, or that tiny a heart. But I fear a slip, an error, a mistake, a fall. I know they hurt. I don’t want the humiliation of people laughing at me. I know that the bruises will come. And bruises remind me of the fall, the humiliation, the ugliness and the hurt. And really, who wants that?